It'll Have to Do
by Cutthroat Pixie
Summary: Romano/Fem!Spain: Spain is dumb, Romano is awkward, and getting together is never easy for these two lovebirds.


Title: It'll Have to Do  
Pairing: Romano/Fem!Spain  
Rating: PG-13  
Note: This was written for sparo_xchange over on LJ. Also, sorry about the lack of section breaks, this place sucks and I can't just do hyphens as breaks anymore booooo. And letters look weird, so idk man.

* * *

To say that Romano was unpleasant would be the understatement of the year, if you asked most nations. Italy, who everyone agreed was most unfortunate indeed to have such a foul relation, loved his brother dearly, but even he wasn't quick to point out any good points Romano may have possessed. Germany would sooner arrive to an important meeting late than voluntarily spend time with the southern nation. Austria was glad he'd escaped having to raise him, while Hungary tutted and tsked about what a shame it was, since Italy was _so_ adorable and obedient, and wouldn't it be nice if his brother was the same? France thought he was cute enough- she'd attempted to take control of him many a time, after all- but any amount of time spent with him reminded her that she was probably better off without a history of him wreaking havoc on her house. Prussia was annoyed by him on principle. He was always hogging Spain and making her younger brother even bitchier than he usually was, which was ridiculously unawesome, if you asked her.

Most other nations didn't have much interaction with the southern half of Italy. America was still confused as to why there were two of them to begin with.

Spain adored him, though. Belgium loved teasing him about how much Spain adored him (and how much he apparently adored her, but Romano swore she was making most of that up). Nobody else quite understood that one. After all, Spain was all smiles and sunshine, and Romano was anything but.

Whatever it was other nations thought of him, though, the fact of the matter was that Romano could be, and was, quite pleasant when it came to the older woman he'd spent so many years with. The moment he'd learned his new boss was a gorgeous lady, he'd been in heaven. Not so much when his younger self had gotten to know her a little bit and found himself to be ridiculously annoyed by the Spanish woman. But then he'd grown up and she'd stayed the same, yet somehow all those changes in him made her seem so much more _appealing_ and...

The point was he was quite lovely to Spain. And if anyone questioned that or found it odd, they could fucking suck it.

Despite the step outside his normally surly demeanour when interacting with her, though, she just wasn't noticing how downright charming Romano was, and that fact was reminding him of why he'd found her so damn obnoxious all those years ago.

-

On Spain's birthday, Romano had shown up to her door with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Red camellias because his brother had insisted they meant something about flames in his heart, which sounded really painful, but that about summed up his feelings for the stupid Spanish woman, he supposed. He'd also thrown in some red carnations because they were Spain's favourite, and they probably meant something too, but Romano didn't really pay attention to flower language.

"Hello?" Spain called from behind the door, seconds before opening it and revealing herself to be... not exactly dressed. "Oh, Romano! Hi!"

Said partially naked woman launched herself at Romano and all he could do was move his arms back to prevent her from squishing the flowers in his hands. "What the hell, Spain?" No, he was not blushing, shut up. "Get in the house, damned lady, somebody might see you."

It had taken her a moment to realise why somebody seeing her might be a bad idea, but eventually Romano saw a rare look of embarrassment cross her face and she'd ushered him inside. "I'll be right back!" she said, rushing off to hopefully dress herself, leaving Romano standing in her entryway.

He stood there awkwardly until she came back, sporting a green dress he'd bought her for her last birthday, and then he stood there awkwardly some more, because damnit, he'd only gotten her flowers this time. What kind of loser couldn't even top their last gift?

"Are those for me?"

Romano looked at Spain for a moment before holding the flowers out to her and giving her a rare smile. "Buon compleanno," he said. "Cento di questi giorni."

"Aw, you got my favourite!" She took the flowers, beaming, and reached up to hug him once more, albeit in a calmer way than the first one. "You are too cute, thank you."

"You, uh, look really nice," he blurted out. In a totally suave, charming way, because he was Italian and that's just how he was with the ladies, obviously.

Spain looked down at herself and then grinned again. "Oh yeah? Thanks! I can't remember where I got this dress, but it just seemed like a good thing to wear today..." Romano's eye twitched. "Just kidding! I know Romano got this for me~," she added quickly. "Do you want to stay for breakfast?"

"It's lunch time," Romano pointed out. "And I was thinking I could take you out." In Romano's head, the way he'd said that was also extremely smooth, and not at all timid or awkward and why couldn't he be like he was with all those cute human girls when he was around Spain?

"No no, I'll make break- lunch! It's okay, you don't have to do that."

"I insist. It's your birthday."

"And you already got me such nice flowers! I haven't cooked for you in awhile, please?"

Wide, pleading green eyes looked up at him and Romano couldn't help but cave. He grumbled a, "Fine," and followed Spain into the kitchen, making a note to himself to ask her out _before_ he'd made reservations next time.

-

"Next time" came two days later, on Valentine's Day. Romano had called Spain the night before and asked her to dinner, and thankfully she'd agreed, so he wouldn't need to be cancelling any reservations this time. There weren't many places still accepting them on such late notice, but one of the many perks of being Southern Italy was that he'd had hundreds of years to perfect the art of yelling at people until he got his way.

After suiting up, he was once again outside Spain's door, this time with a box of chocolate-covered hazelnuts in hand.

"Romano, hi!" Spain greeted him. "You look so nice, where are we going? Look, I found that sweater you got me for Christmas!"

A quick glance at Spain and Romano suddenly felt very overdressed. She looked nice, she usually looked nice, but jeans and a sweater (albeit a very fashionable one, he'd bought it, after all) hadn't exactly been what he was expecting. He considered asking her to change, but she looked so damn happy about the sweater, and they didn't really have time. "Eh, let's go," he said after a moment.

On the ride over to the restaurant, Romano had attempted to play a CD of love ballads, but Spain kept whining about how she wanted to listen to the radio. He'd given in to that too, figuring there'd be enough romantic music at the restaurant anyway.

There was, indeed, romantic music playing at the restaurant, but it could barely be heard over the sounds of too many people all crammed into one building. Ignoring Spain's, "Should we go somewhere else? They look busy," Romano quickly spoke to the woman seating people and followed her to a table.

Spain, letting out a squeal about how comfy the chairs looked, immediately sat herself before Romano could even think about pulling the chair out for her.

Oh well. That was fine.

Spain blabbered on and on about something or other, mostly all her stupid friends and all her stupid ex-colonies and all her stupid neighbours and all her stupid- oh, she was talking about Romano, and Romano mostly listened, because that was the polite thing to do. He didn't even scowl once, which was probably a record for him, until suddenly Spain was reaching across the table and grabbing at his tie.

"What the f- what are you doing?"

"Your tie is crooked!" Spain nodded to herself and began adjusting the tie, teeth biting at her bottom lip in concentration. Romano couldn't stop the bright red blush that immediately took over, and it was very hard to resist the urge to runawaykissherohgod, but he sat still as well as he could.

"There! Boss fixed it all up for you." She grinned and patted his cheek before going back to her own half of the table, and Romano was suddenly very much reminded of all the times "Boss" had fixed things for him when he was little. Not exactly something he wanted to be thinking about while trying to woo her, really.

She seemed insistent on treating him like a kid, though. Trying to tuck his napkin into his shirt for him, trying to feed him bits of her food, constantly calling him cute.

"You are so polite," she commented. "Makes me proud, like I did a good job after all." She wiped a faux-tear from her eye and all Romano could do was grind his jaw in silent frustration.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" he finally asked after a tense (for him, at least) silence.

Spain just blinked at him, eyes wide, innocent, and very confused. "Doing what?"

The check came and Romano just shook his head at her, reaching to grab it. Unfortunately, she got to it first. "Here, my treat."

"No," Romano snapped, snatching the check back from her. "This is not your treat. It's mine."

-

Over the next few weeks, Romano continued to try and win Spain over, but to no avail. He'd cooked for her, taken her out dancing, spent an obnoxious amount of money that he didn't have on buying her things, and all he had to show for it were a few kisses on the cheek and a plethora of, "You're so cute, Romano."

It was time to finally admit defeat and ask Veneziano for advice.

"Oi, Veneziano. Why is Spain so fucking oblivious?"

"Ve? Oh, Fratello, hi! How are you?" Veneziano was clearly not understanding the point of this phone conversation.

"Answer the question, stupid. Spain is not falling for my obvious charms and I need to know why."

"She's not?" Veneziano sounded confused, as usual. "But she's seemed so happy lately with all the dates you've been going on!"

"Of course she's not- she what now?"

"She told Big Sister France that you two have been having lots of fun! And she seemed so happy, ve, so I wouldn't worry."

"Then why hasn't she said anything to me?" Perhaps there was hope after all, but, "...How the fuck do you know what she told that French pervert?"

"Maybe you flirt with the other pretty girls too much!" Veneziano blurted out. "Ve, that would make so much sense why she's not saying anything, maybe she's not taking you seriously."

"Who the fuck said she's not taking me seriously, asshole?"

"You did, Big Brother."

After a series of very colourful and creative obscenities, Romano angrily hung up on Veneziano. He then called up Spain, asked her out to dinner, and fuck it all if he didn't flirt with a single woman who wasn't her the entire time.

-

Things finally seemed to be looking up for Romano. Spain still wasn't swooning from his manliness and charm and confessing her undying love for him, but he hadn't exactly told her how he felt either. He kind of thought it was implied, though. Spain should have been good at reading him after all these years, damnit.

His stupid little brother kept insisting that he flat-out tell her, though, and Romano had to admit (only to himself, though) that he might have a small bit of a point.

He also kept telling him he should just climb into bed with her at night, or sneak in while she was taking a shower, but there was absolutely no point to that at all and Romano was going to fucking kill that potato bastard for perverting his brother when he wasn't so busy with Spain.

So there he was. Alone. Trying to think up how he was going to tell Spain he loved her in the least embarrassing way possible.

His mobile phone rang, Spain's name flashed across the screen, and Romano cursed to himself. "Pronto."

He was answered with a crashing sound, probably Spain dropping the phone, and then a couple minutes of rustling that was hopefully her trying to pick it up from wherever it had fallen. He was about to just hang up and let her call him back when she was in a less stupid mood when a desperate cry of, "Romano!" met his ears. If he wasn't so used to Spain by now, he'd probably have gone deaf.

"What?" he responded, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

An overdramatic sob echoed over the phone, and Romano was seriously considering just hanging up and going over there as fast as he could. "You know Boss loves you, right?"

A pause.

Another sob.

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

"That's not the point!" Again with the going deaf. "Boss loves you and you can tell her anything, okay Romano?"

He ignored the way his heart raced when she said she loved him. It was stupid and unnecessary and needed to start beating like a normal fucking heart, please. She was wasted and probably calling everyone to tell them this, anyway. "You're not my boss. Turn your phone off, go to bed, and stop being a drunk moron."

"But is there anything you need to tell me? Anything at all? You know I'll understand!"

"No, Spain. There is not anything I need to tell you." Not right now, at least.

"No, no, Romano! Really. You can tell me all your secrets and I won't tell anybody else and I won't judge you!" A loud beeping cut through the line. "Oh, my phone is dying... Hurry, tell me quick!"

Romano was more than a bit thankful that Spain always forgot to charge her phone (when she even remembered where it was in the first place). "Go. To. Bed."

"But-!"

The line went dead.

-

The next time Romano received a phone call (two days later... he just didn't like talking on the phone and people knew that, shut the fuck up), it was, most fortunately for him, not an inebriated Spain. Unfortunately, it was Belgium, and that was just as bad.

"Romano, what did you do now?"

"...Hello to you too."

Belgium continued on, as if he hadn't said anything. "She's so upset and won't stop calling people to whine about you, you know. Seriously, what did you do?"

"I didn't-"

"No, you know what? Just go fix it."

"Go fix wha-"

"She's racking up my phone bill. Also, France and Prussia are probably going to come after you, so you might want to be hiding at Spain's anyway."

"But I- What? Shit!"

"Tot ziens! Au revoir!"

Belgium hung up, and Romano, true to his Italian spirit, ran the fuck out of his house and off to Spain's before any potato bitches or scary French women could invade.

In no time at all, he was outside Spain's house, winded and frantically searching for the key she'd given him.

Just as he was putting the key into the lock, the door opened and he tumbled inside the house. "What the fu- Oh hi, Spain." Said woman was currently pinned beneath him, and while he was probably crushing her, he also probably wasn't, she was _Spain_, she could totally handle it... and it felt kind of nice, and... damnit, she'd obviously been crying recently. Again. Fuck.

"Are you okay?"

"Lovi, I'm sorry!"

"What the fuck are you apologising for?"

Instead of answering, Spain quickly pulled herself and Romano up, standing back from him, an uncharacteristically wary look on her face. "I didn't know, I'm really sorry."

"You're not making an-"

"I mean, I'm really sad you didn't tell me! But I understand, I guess. And it's all my fault for assuming silly things. Guess I really am stupid like you always say I am, huh?" She laughed sadly and Romano was so confused all he could do was stare at her, hoping maybe she'd explain herself eventually.

She didn't, so he was forced to ask the first question that came to mind. "What the fuck?"

She reached up to pat him on the shoulder, understanding taking over her expression, the same way it did whenever she finally figured out why he was upset with her and made attempts to comfort him. "You don't have to pretend, Hungary told me."

...That couldn't be good. That bitch was insane. "Told you _what_?"

"That you're gay."

Romano just stared at Spain.

Spain stared back at Romano.

Romano stared up in the direction he assumed God was in.

Spain looked up at the ceiling, wondering if that goop Prussia had gotten up there the other night was still there.

Romano took a deep breath in. Let it back out. Another deep breath in. "Look-"

"No no, it's okay! You're still my friend and I love you very much and it's my fault for thinking that you were trying to woo me or something with all those dates-"

"You knew I was doing that?"

"-but I guess they weren't really dates and I'll get over it! I really will!"

Romano was going to have a headache by the end of this, he just knew it. "Why didn't you tell me the, uh, wooing worked? Or whatever."

"It doesn't really matter, does it? I thought you were just being all cute and shy and you acted kind of awkward like you always do, plus your brother thought you wanted to wait to confess or something, so I was just going to wait and let you. But I guess we were both wrong."

Romano growled and grabbed Spain by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. "Spain," he said, calm as he could be. "That bitch is insane, and you are an idiot."

"You don't have to explain you-"

For once, it was Romano cutting Spain off.

With his mouth.

On hers.

"I'm not gay," he said once he'd pulled back from her, pausing to wait for her to nod. "Hungary thinks _everyone_ is gay because she's a perverted freak." Waited for another nod. "And I fucking love you, you stupid woman."

Spain just stared at him, a soft, "Oh," forming on her full, red lips. Once she'd apparently regained her ability to speak, she chose to use it to laugh at him instead. And laugh. And laugh some more.

"That is not how you're supposed to react!" Romano flushed bright red with embarrassment and shoved her shoulder lightly. "Moron, stop laughing right now."

She just grinned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, nuzzling her nose against his neck. "Oh Lovi," she chuckled. "Such a charmer, as always." She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then shifted to initiate a second kiss.

As Romano kissed her back, he couldn't help but think that this wasn't exactly the way he'd imagined his eventual confession to go down, but nothing ever really went his way anyway. Spain loved him anyway, though, so he knew it would do.


End file.
